Did I Handle This Physical Altercation With An Amputee The Right Way?

Fade in: Interior, main house. Night. The hustle and bustle of a banger bring two ne’er-do-wells to my attention. I saw four arms, three legs, two full bladders, and one carbon-fiber stick with a shoe at the end of it. Four-limbed guy wore an orange shirt; three-limbed wore a neon green one. They were trying to get into the brothers-only bathroom on the top floor.

“Aye bro, do you live here?” orange shirt asked.

“Doesn’t matter. Get off this floor. It’s for brothers only,” I replied.

“No… no, I know… I know the captain,” orange guy slurred.

“What? Captain fucking Morgan? Damn right you do. Get off this floor.”

“I mean your president! He said we could come up here.”

“Ah, the ‘I-know-X-let-me-in card.’ What’s his name?” I asked.

“Are you a Trump supporter? You look like one. Where’s your hat?”

His deft act of misdirection fell flat. Once again, he was told to get off the floor. Then shit began to escalate. 1.75 guys wearing wrestling jackets began pushing past me. Drunk and angry, I shoved them back.

“Bro, did you just shove an amputee? I’m handicapped. What the fuck?!” green barked.

Fuck. Fuck. This is not a good look. I changed my tack.

“I’m an equal opportunity employer.” I’ll admit that was not my strongest or most logical comeback.

Things got physical, which isn’t good against two competitive wrestlers. Granted, they were about 125 lbs each and I was 250. But I envisioned the orange guy holding me in an arm bar, and my elbow stuffed into his crotch while green guy swung his leg at me. That was not a desirable outcome.

Green shirt began to come to his wits. Or so I thought.

“I’m sorry. This is my bad. I’m sorry. Just let us piss and we’ll get out of here,” the angry amputee said.

“No, wait at the bottom like everyone else.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re a BITCH… YOU’RE A BITCH!!!”

With that final war cry, Captain Ahab shoved me right in my stomach, almost knocking the wind out of me. The gears in my head spun into overdrive. I couldn’t scrape together what to do.

I couldn’t hit him back. I was alreading facing disciplinary action for pissing on a rival fraternity house, as well as academic probation. There was no fucking way they wouldn’t spin this as an angry frat dude taking out a helpless amputee. I could just let them piss, but my drunk ego was on the line. Quite honestly, I wish I could’ve just picked him up and thrown him out the door.

So I did. Up he went, over my shoulder fireman style. I grabbed orange shirt by the collar and walked briskly enough that he couldn’t turn around. My life at the university was over. They were going to call student life on me. Everyone would hate the guy picking on the amputee, and I was going to get kicked out. I didn’t care. The red hot anger only achievable after 10 beers consumed me.

“YOU’RE A BITCH!!! You BITCH,” green shirt screamed, over and over. Orange shirt joined in.

The chorus of insults drew attention to the already-bizarre spectacle of a dude carrying a one-legged dude while dragging another dude down three floors. It was the longest three floors of my life. A hippopotamus in a tube top joined into the “you’re a bitch” chorus. She followed me throughout the house, consumed by the self-righteous passion and imperative to stick up for a “defenseless” amputee.

It felt like D-Day at Normandy. Insults whizzed past my head while I advanced to the front lines of oblivion, where I would be expelled and my college life would come to an end. My act of frat kamikaze ended at the porch, where more-sober brothers gently coaxed them off the property.

To this day, I have no idea if I did the right thing. Should I have let them piss? Was picking him up necessary? Would the situation have been any different if there were four legs between them? I don’t know. It’s difficult to think about. Thankfully, nothing came of it. Apologies were doled out. I remained in school. Geeds stayed off the top floor. ‘Twas a strange night, a complicated night, and a thing I hope to never experience again..

Thats why you hire security. These two guys were being dicks regardless of number of remaining limbs, and if they really knew your president he should escort them up there. They sound like they were full of shit

I got drunk at my chapter’s “fishes and bitches” mixer and asked a senior sorority sister if she would lick my taint. Her entire chapter threatened to blackball us at formal, and this embarrassed President/brother Magnum and Pledge Educator/brother Meatlocker. Please shame me. I am worthless. I make Vaginator sound cultured and educated.

That kid was right you are a bitch. If you ever came at me like that I would have knocked you the fuck out right there. They probably thought you were carrying him outside so you could eat him. Fat fuck.